CHAPTER L
On the following day, while Leighton and Lewis were sorting out theirthings and Nelton was packing, Leighton said:
"Nelton, you'd better go back to London with Mr. Lewis."
"Beg your pardon, sir," said Nelton from the depths of a trunk, "but I'dlike to go with you, sir."
"Where to?" asked Leighton, surprised. "Africa?"
"Yes, sir, Africa, sir."
Leighton paused for a moment before he said:
"Nelton, you can't go to Africa, not as a serving-man. You wouldn't beuseful and you wouldn't be comfortable. Africa's a queer place, thecradle of slavery and the land of the free. A place," he continued, halfto himself, "where masters become men. They are freed from theirservants by the law that says white shall not serve white while theblack looks on lest he be amazed that the gods should wait upon eachother."
He turned back to Nelton and added with a smile that was kindly:
"What would you do in a land where just to be white spells kingship--akingship held by the power to stand up to your thirty miles a day, tobear hunger and thirst without whimpering, to stand steady in danger,and to shoot straight and keep clean always? It's a land where all thewhites sit down to the same table, but it isn't every white that can getto the table. You mustn't think I'm picking on you, Nelton. The manthat's going with me is always hard up, but I heard him refuse an offerof Lord Dubbley's of all expenses and a thousand pounds down to take himon a trip."
"Lord Dubbley!" repeated Nelton, impressed. "Is there anything w'at alord can't 'ave?"
"Yes," said Leighton. "There are still tables you can't sit down at forjust money or name, but they are getting further and further away."
"Mr. Lewis Leighton and servant" attracted considerable attention on the_Laurentia_, but let it be said to Lewis's credit, or, rather, to thecredit of his abstraction, that he did not notice it. Never before hadLewis had so much to think about. His parting with his father ought tohave been more than a formality. Why had it been a mere incident--anincident scarcely salient among the happenings of a busy day? As helooked back, Lewis began to see that it was not yesterday or the daybefore that he had parted from his father. When was it, then? Suddenlyit came upon him that their real farewell had been said in that still,deserted lane overlooking his father's land of dreams.
The realization depressed him. He did not know why. He did not know thatthe physical partings in this world are as nothing compared with thosedivisions of the spirit that come to us unawares, that are never seen inanticipation, but are known all too poignantly when, missing from besideus some long familiar soul, we look back and see the parting of theways.
Then there was another matter that had come to puzzle his inexperience.He knew nothing of his father's theory that there is no erotic affectionthat can stand a separation of six months in conjunction with sixthousand miles. To youth erotic affection is nonexistent; all emotionalimpulse is love. Along this road the race would have come to uttermarital disaster long ago were it not for the fact that youth takes in anew impulse with every breath.
In certain aspects Lewis had the maturity of his age. People who lookedat him saw a man, not a boy. But there was a shy and hidden side of himthat was very young indeed. He was one of those men in whom youth isinherent, a legion that cling long to dreams and are ever ready to standand fall by some chosen illusion. Reason can not rob them of God, norwomen rob them of woman.
To Lewis's youth had come a new impulse so entangled with contact withH lne, with Leighton, and with Natalie that he could not quite defineit. He only knew that it had pushed Folly back in his vision--so farback that his mind could not fasten upon and hold her in the place towhich he had given her a right. The realization troubled him. He worriedover it, but comforted himself with the thought that once his eyes couldfeast again upon her living self, she would blot out, as before, allelse in life.
He should have arrived in London on Saturday night, but a heavy fog heldthe steamer to the open sea over night, and it was only late on Sundaymorning that he disembarked at Plymouth. Well on in the afternoon hereached town and rushed to the flat for a wash and a change beforeseeking Folly.
Eager to taste the pleasures of surprising the lady of his choice, hehad sent her no word of his coming, and as a consequence he found herapartment empty--empty for him, for Folly was not in. Marie opened thedoor, and after a few gasping words of welcome told him that Folly hadjust gone out, that she was driving in the park; but wouldn't he come inand wait?
At first he said "Yes," but his impatience did not let him even crossthe threshold. It drove him out to the park with the assurance that itwas better to hunt for a needle in a haystack than to sit down and waitfor the needle to crawl out to him. For a while he stood at a point ofvantage and watched the long procession of private motor-cars andcarriages, but he watched in vain. Depressed, he started to walk, andhis mood carried him away from the throng.
He was walking head down when a lonely carriage standing by the curbdrew his eye. At first he thought desire had deceived his senses. Theequipage looked very like Folly's smart little victoria, but it wasempty, and the man on the box was a stranger. Lewis approached himdoubtfully. "Is this Miss Delaires's carriage?" he asked.
The man looked him over before he answered:
"Yes, sir."
"Where is Miss Delaires?" asked Lewis, his face brightening.
"Doin' 'er mile," replied the coachman.
Lewis waved his hand toward a path to the right questioningly. The mannodded. Feeling suddenly young again, Lewis hurried along the path witha long and eager stride. He had not gone far when he saw a daintyfigure, grotesquely accompanied by a ragamuffin, coming toward him. Hedid not have to ask himself twice if the dainty figure was Folly's. Ifhe had been blind, the singing of the blood in his veins would havespelled her name.
He stepped behind a screening bush and waited to spring out at her. Hiseyes fastened curiously upon the ragamuffin. He could see that he wasspeaking to Folly, and that she was paying no regard to him. PresentlyLewis could hear what he was saying:
"Aw, naow, lydy, give us a penny, won't cher?"
"I won't," replied Folly, sharply. "I said I wouldn't, and I won't. I'llgive you up to the first officer we come to, though, if you don'tclear."
"Ah, ga-am!" said the youth, whose head scarcely reached to Folly'swaist. "Course you won't give me no penny. _You_ ain't no lydy."
Folly stopped in her tracks. Her face went suddenly livid with rage.
"No lydy!" she cried in the most directly expressive of all idioms. "IfI wasn't a _perfect_ lydy, I'd slap your blankety blank little blank."
At each word of the virile repartee of Cockneydom coming soincongruously from those soft lips, Lewis's heart went down and down inbig, jolting bumps. Scarcely aware of what he was doing, he stepped outinto the path. Folly looked up and saw him. The look of amazement in hisface, eyes staring and mouth open and gulping, struck and held her for asecond before she realized who it was that stood before her.
For just the fraction of a moment longer she was frightened and puzzledby Lewis's dumfounded mien; then her mind harked back for the clue andgot it. No one had to tell her that the game was up so far as Lewis wasconcerned. She knew it. Her face suddenly crinkled up with mirth. With apeal of laughter, she dodged him and ran improperly for her very properlittle turnout. He did not follow except with his eyes.
"Larfin' at _us_, governor," jibed the diminutive cockney, putting arail between himself and Lewis. "The 'uzzy! The minute I lays my heye onthat marm, I says, 'Blime yer, _you_ ain't no lydy'! I say, governor,give us a penny."
Lewis turned away and took a few steps gropingly, head down, as thoughhe walked in a trance. Presently he stopped and came back, feeling withfinger and thumb in his waistcoat pocket. He drew out a gold coin,looked at it gravely, and flipped it across the rail at the ragamuffin.Then he turned and walked off with a rapid stride.
The little cockney snatched at the coin, and popped it into his mouth.Too
overwhelmed to speak his gratitude, he stood on his head until Lewiswas out of sight. It was the first time in his life that he had handled,much less possessed, a "thick un."